The Janus Child
by Simone of the Zordiak
Summary: Two different hidden worlds are about to collide, when an old god, a modern day geneticist, a serial killer, a crazy cult and a shady company all concentrate their attention on one small boy.
1. Preparing the Playing Field

Disclaimer: Joss Whedon is the original writer/creator of all that is Buffy, and Mutant Enemy also holds those rights. Heroes is Tim Krings brainchild and since that's not my name I sadly can not claim to own it.

Summary: Two different hidden worlds are about to collide, when an old god, a modern day geneticist, a serial killer, a crazy cult and a shady company all concentrate their attention on one small boy. Reborn to save the world, Alexander, formerly known as Xander Harris, struggles with both a new life, old memories and a demonic sect, that has declared him to be the avatar of their God. Trying to stay ahead from the company, keeping his parents from killing each other and hiding from his devout priests is hard enough, but the world is going to end... soon and he's only five years old.

Authors Note: To fit the Buffy-timeline with the Heroes-timeline, I moved the events of Buffy back a little. Buffy starts one year earlier, so the episodes "Seeing Red" and "Grave" happened in 2001, so that reborn little Xander would be five in 2006.

The Janus-Child by Simone of the Zordiak 

Prologue: Preparing the Playing Field

1996 - after Halloween -

Janus Geminus also known as Janus Bifrons, god of gates, doors, doorways, beginnings, and endings was not happy. For a long time he'd watched the so called Powers that Be play their petty little games with the humans, games that the Powers in their hybris claimed would bring balance to the universe. They were so wrong and yet, like muleheaded children they insisted that they were right and their way the only possible one.

No, Janus was not happy and the only way for him to steer against their self-destructive ways, was to activate a champion of his own. And because of the Powers and their interference with his followers, he'd only one person, one human that he could claim as his champion. Unfortunately he wasn't able to make his move for the next few years. Alexander was virtually the most important person on top of the hellmouth because he was one of Fate's wild cards and there were several apocalyptic prophecies due in the next years. Only a Wild Card, one of those touched by Fate, could counter them. But, and now both of his faces started to smirk, that did not mean that he couldn't start preparing the playing field for his player and he already several people in mind, who would become very important to his champion.

-o-o-o-o-o-

Shanti was the name of the virus, Shanti, which was Sanskrit for "Inner peace, tranquillity", but none of the men felt very tranquil when they'd found the information in the files secretly copied from Prof. Suresh.

Sure, there had been only one victim so far, but thanks to the companies own precog they knew that the virus was not gone, just hiding. One day it would rise its ugly head again and flood over the world like a tsunami, completely unstoppable. The only known carrier of Shanti-antibodies was untouchable to them, for the same precog had claimed him to be a lynchpin of future events. Remove him from the picture and all their plans would fall apart.

So they had to find another way to gain access to the precious antibodies. And the first outline of a plan was already taking form.

-o-o-o-o-o-

Mohinder Suresh was something like a model student. Always on time, always the best notes, even if his handwriting was sometimes hard to read, he even went and donated blood every three months. To make it short, Mohinder Suresh was a student every University would love to call their own. But even a model student has to surrender to peer pressure from time to time. So when Mohinder Suresh woke up the day after a party he'd been dragged to, with a pounding headache and a few missing hours, he simply assumed that the drinks had been spiked with more alcohol than good for him and swore to stay away from them in the future. He never regained those hours... the Haitian only erased memories, he couldn't give them back.

-o-o-o-o-o-

All over the world small private Laboratories popped up, that paid good money for donated blood, sperm and eggcells. They claimed to need them for research, accepted anonymous donations and promised to destroy all unnecessary samples.

And the people came. It was easily earned money.

None of them knew, that their blood was used to screen their DNA, searching for those segments that identified them as 'special'. Those sperm- and eggsamples were careful separated out and stored apart from the others.

After a year the Laboratories closed down, seemingly gone bankrupt. That was far from being the truth. It just meant that they had enough samples to start one of the biggest experiments that the company had ever attempted. They called it the 'Janus-Child'.

-o-o-o-o-o-

2001 - Kingmans Bluff

Willow was crying in his arms. She was crying and her hair had turned back from black to her normal red tone. Everything was going to be ok again, it simply had to. Xander winced as he hugged her, the raw magic he'd intercepted had done a lot of damage to his body and somehow he knew that there were consequences waiting to happen.

But right here and now he didn't want to think about it, he was too tired. So tired. And then the world went dark. He never heard Willows panicked shouts, never felt her hot tears drench his shirt and never ever woke up again.

-o-o-o-o-o-

2001 - Somewhere else

He blinked in surprise when he woke up. This, well it did not look like any room he'd ever been in before. Not his friends rooms, not his own, nor any hospital-room he'd ever seen. Here he was, lying in a strange bed, in a strange room, with no idea how he'd gotten here. When he stood up, he was surprised to notice that the fresh wounds Willow had just given him were gone. Not healed, but gone as if they had never existed. Now he was worried. Really worried. What had happened to him?

"The magic you friend threw at the statue and at you was raw magic, wild and pure. It dissolved the nucleotides in your body. Or to make it short: You died."

Xander jumped, turning around when someone suddenly started to speak behind him. It was a man, or at least it was a male person. Xander was quite sure that no human ever had two faces... wait a moment.

"Janus? Ethan Raynes Chaosgod? That Janus? And what do you mean, I'm dead?"

The two faces of the man(?), god, whatever frowned in disgust.

"I am NOT Ethan Raynes Chaosgod. I am the God of gates, doors, doorways, beginnings, and endings. Just because beginnings and endings are often a bit chaotic, I am still not a true God of Chaos, more a Guardian of Humanity. Rayne abused on of my priests defensive spells. And you are here, because you are my last champion on Earth. I put a marker upon your soul and when you left your mortal body behind, you ended up here."

"Why?"

"Do you know that I can see both, the past and the future, at the same time? No, most people don't remember that little fact. I have watched the so-called Powers that Be manipulate the history of humanity to suit their own needs. And I know where this will end. They are blind to the dangers they invite with their jammering about absolute Balance. There is balance, but it is never absolute. They stumble around and with their dilettantic manipulations they have destroyed many safety-nets I and other old Gods have created for humanity. Twenty years, Alexander, that's all the time left for humans. Then the system of the Powers will explode into nothing and in their panic to correct everything they will start the final apocalypse. I need someone to stop this and you are the only champion I have left, thanks to the Powers."

Xander starred at him, wide-eyed.

"I will not lie to you, Xander. You could enter the afterlife and be happy, but then the world will suffer. Or you could allow me to reincarnate you as my champion. It will be hard, but it will be worth it. I can not make you do it, I can only ask."

Xander blinked, opening his mouth, then he stopped.

"I need to know more, before I can make a decision."

Janus nodded, he'd expected questions to be asked.

"Then come, let me show you what I've planned."

-o-o-o-o-o-

2001 - A secret laboratory in Nevada

A103xN12V1 that was the number of the experiment written on the file. A name Melinda Stretton did not care about one iota in the moment. Right now she was fighting her way through the last contractions. She screamed loudly and then suddenly a second, small voice rose. A103xN12V1 was born.

Two weeks later Melinda would wake up at home, 300000 dollar richer, with several holes in her memory and with a contract she'd signed about a year ago with a secret government laboratory placed on her kitchentable. She would take the money and make something out of her life, but she couldn't help but feel like she'd lost something precious to her.

Hidden from mortal eyes Janus watched over a grumpy little baby boy, who was wailing loudly as someone took more of his blood for more tests. Xanders first years of life would be hard for him, but already he'd placed the first figures on the transdimensional gamingboard to counter the Powers mad game.

Alexander Nishant Vidar, formerly Alexander LaVelle Harris, would be Fates Wild Card once more.

End Prologue


	2. Opening Gambit

Disclaimer: Joss Whedon is the original writer/creator of all that is Buffy, and Mutant Enemy also holds those rights. Heroes is Tim Krings brainchild and since that's not my name I sadly can not claim to own it.

Summary: Two different hidden worlds are about to collide, when an old god, a modern day geneticist, a serial killer, a crazy cult and a shady company all concentrate their attention on one small boy. Reborn to save the world, Alexander, formerly known as Xander Harris, struggles with both a new life, old memories and a demonic sect, that has declared him to be the avatar of their God. Trying to stay ahead from the company, keeping his parents from killing each other and hiding from his devout priests is hard enough, but the world is going to end... soon and he's only five years old.

Authors Note: To fit the Buffy-timeline with the Heroes-timeline, I moved the events of Buffy back a little. Buffy starts one year earlier, so the episodes "Seeing Red" and "Grave" happened in 2001, so that reborn little Xander would be five in 2006.

The Janus-Child by Simone of the Zordiak

Chapter One: Opening Gambit

October 17. 2006 - Odessa, Texas

Alexander was bored. Ever since the horny-glasses man had brought the new "guest" none of the people, who were working here, had time to play with him anymore. Little Xander thought it a bit strange, for even when the scary voices lady had brought the man with the cool paints here, there had still been time for a game or two. But the painting man had gone home and when he'd asked about the scary voices lady, he'd been told that she would never come back. That was a pity, because inspite of the scary voices the lady could make, she still had always been nice to him and had taught him many games to play. He'd cried for a while when he'd learned that she would not come back again, but crying became exhausting after a while and he still had nothing to do and nobody to play with. So now he was playing on his own, sitting quietly in a corner of the room, apparently drawing on a piece of paper. At least that was how it looked like to the adults. Xander had learned rather quickly that he was practically invisible to the eyes of adult when it looked like he was quietly playing on his own. And the adults were always talking about the most interesting things when they did not notice him.

Xander blinked as he listed to the two white-cloaks conversation, trying not to frown too much as he tried to decipher the big-people words the two grownups used. He was pretty sure that they were talking about him, something about the strange new "guest", his abilities in comparison to him? Something too complicated to understand. The voices grew fainter and then there was the sound of the door falling into the lock. Xander looked up and realised that they had left him alone in the room. He smirked. Now he could explore and find out what the stupid grownups had meant.

-o-o-o-o-o-

Those that enjoyed reading books like the Lord of the Rings would compare the Enlil-Fiachra to the Eldar, Tolkiens ethereal Firstborn, but unlike them, the Enlil-Fiachra were quite real. They were tall and graceful, with long flowing hair and pointed ears, strong in mind, body and magic. A long time ago they had fled from their own plane of existence, settling down in magical created subdimensions all over the globe. The few Watchers that had ever seen them described them as honourable, wise and very religious. They also mentioned that while the Enlil-Fiachra didn't believe in starting violence, they were very good at putting an end to those that tried to bring their wars to them. Which was also the reason why the Watches simply left them alone. The life of the Enlil-Fiachra was warped around their religion. They spent a lot of their time with meditation and self-finding rituals, for they wanted to be worthy when they entered the Temple of the Trinity. Their pantheon contained three main entities: The Mother Dark, the Father Light and the Son that is Balance. Most Enlil-Fiachra prayed to a simple threefold symbol, but there were some that were more. The seers of the Trinitytemple were able to gaze behind the veil of dimensions. They dreamed the past and riddled the future, always in balance with their Gods. That would change this day.

-o-o-o-o-o-

October 17. 2006 - New York, NY

He was sitting there, watching as Mohinder devoured the crickets he'd put into his tank. Not for the first time he wondered just why his father had named the lizard after him. Chandra had not wanted him to come to New York and yet, one of the first things his father had done after coming here was buying a lizard and naming it after him. For a moment he felt irrational jealousy well up inside of him, his father had needed a Mohinder, but he had not called, had not written, no he had replaced his son with a lizard.

Mohinder sighed as he stood up and walked back to his desk. It wasn't the lizards fault that it was sharing his name, that had been his fathers idea. And it wasn't his own fault that his father had always been distant to him, but he couldn't fault his sister with dying... that had been fate, cruel, clean and simple. His thoughts were starting to circle around and the algorithm so prominently displayed on his laptop started to swim before his eyes. He knew that if he didn't stop now, did not get some sleep, he would have a murderous headache later. Driving a cab in New York was stressful enough and he had no desire to cause an accident just because his brain felt three numbers too big for his head.

He let his eyes roam through the room, stopping at the map, so proudly and dangerously displaying the names his father had already found. He really should take it down and yet, it also was his fathers work, his testament in a way. Every time he'd attempted to dig the pins out of the map he, felt like he was attempting to destroy something sacred. Mohinder rubbed his eyes. The map would still be there tomorrow and he was not doing himself any favours by staying awake any longer. Tomorrow, he would try and contact the people on the list, they needed to be warned. Tomorrow.

-o-o-o-o-o-

October 18. 2006 - Odessa, Texas

The tranquillisers were slowly wearing of. He could feel the cottony numbness receding from his limbs. How long had they kept him under this time? And what had they done to him while he was unconscious? He sat up, slowly, wincing minutely as his naked feet touched the cold cement of the floor. Carefully he checked over his body, making note of several cuts and holes that looked like they had used some bigger needles than the tiny pinprick needle-holes of the tranquilliser. The shunt was still there, but it did not feel like it had been used in the last few hours so they had left his brain in peace this time.

The lights went on and he blinked and turned around, ready for another round of verbal battle with the father of his next victim. He enjoyed watching the man that had imprisoned him here winding himself with every barb he fired against him and his daughter.

But there were no man with horn-rimmed glasses, nor the doctor who had drugged him during the last few days. No, it was a boy, a little boy standing in front of his window. He blinked, rubbed his eyes, but the boy remained standing there. He couldn't be very old, he estimated him to be between four and six years and with his dark-caramel skin and black curls the child was of at least partial Indian descent. And there was something else, something familiar about that boy. Special..., he could feel it ticking inside of him, the boy was special. So close to him and yet, right now, unreachable. Sylar stepped closer to the window to get a better look at his guest when he noticed something else, something very strange. He felt no desire to kill the boy. Normally he would already be ticking with excitement by now, but this boy didn't feel defect, did not scream out to him to be fixed. What had the doctors done to him? Had they robbed him of his ability to evolve? He thought about the one that got away, the blonde cheerleader and he could feel the need raising up inside of him. Then he turned back to the boy and the need was gone, like a light switched off. So it was not his ability, but the boy. How very interesting. The child stepped closer to his window and now it was only the glass that separated the two of them. For the first time he noticed that the boy was holding something in his hands, a few pieces of paper. Actually he was clutching them like a lifeline and Sylar couldn't help but feel curious about it.

Then it looked like the child was making a decision. He pressed the topmost paper against the glass for him to read.

-o-o-o-o-o-

Xander's heart was beating so fast and so loud that he was surprised that nobody had noticed him already. But he had to do it. It was his only chance of running away from here. Ever since he had found out the truth yesterday his mind had hatched escape-plan after escape-plan, but he knew that the grownups would become very suspicious, if they saw a kid of his age travelling without another grownup. So he had made his final plan, had factored in an willing adult and he knew it would work. Well, if this adult was really willing. But he was rather hopeful. After all, he was his parent.

-o-o-o-o-o-

He had read the information twice already and was reading the paper in front of him for the third time, still disbelieving what his own ability was showing him to be the truth. It fit, everything. That was the reason why he didn't want to kill the boy, Alexander. He had the same power as he did, was his offspring. His to take care of, his to protect, to teach, to form. And it also explained why the people here had kept him alive so far. If they found out how his ability was working, then they could induce the same thing with Alexander, could give him the healing power Sylar had so desperately sought and then... he shuddered at the mental image of his son being drained dry of his blood, only to heal again and again, to endure a painful death repeatedly for the precious antibodies in his blood. That was worse than what he did to his own victims. Sure, he was very aware that what he was doing was not very socially accepted, but at least his victims did not suffer for long. He was quick and very clean when he murdered his victims, for the last thing he could do was garanting them a fairly short and therefore fairly painless death. But this, this was long planned out torture and he would not allow this to happen.

-o-o-o-o-o-

Noah Bennett starred in disbelieve at the empty cell. Somehow, during the early morning hours, when he should still have been under the influence of enough tranquillisers to keep him under for three days, Gabriel Gray had managed to be awake and aware enough, to carefully remove the security-glass out of the frame and to escape. And not only to escape, but to raid their laboratory and stores and kidnap the most important part of their longest running experiment. It was a disaster. Sylar had stolen quite a number of very important documents and files, enough to wreck havoc all over the world if he so desired. His daughter was in danger again, his Janus-Child kidnapped and the Company was not known for being generous with those who failed them.

-o-o-o-o-o-

On the road

He had stolen a car and switched the plates, then had repeated the process a few times to make sure that they wouldn't be found by an overeager Highway patrol, then he'd started driving eastwards. Alexander was sleeping in the back, head on a pillow and carefully covered with a blanked he'd bought in the last little town they'd driven through. It would take him two or maybe even three days, if he was careful, to reach New York and his little boys other parent. Sylar smirked as he drove down a seemingly endless looking Highway.

"Well, Doctor Suresh, here we come."

End chapter one


	3. First Moves

Disclaimer: Joss Whedon is the original writer/creator of all that is Buffy, and Mutant Enemy also holds those rights. Heroes is Tim Krings brainchild and since that's not my name I sadly can not claim to own it.

**The Janus-Child** by Simone of the Zordiak

Chapter Two: First Moves

October 19. 2006 - New York, NY

The brush dropped to the floor, not needed any longer and the milky white film receded from Isaac's eyes as he woke out of his preconitive trance. He blinked and rubbed his hurting eyes before he took his first look. Once again the paintings showed no hint of the bomb that was going to destroy New York, but this time there were a certain, different tone to the paintings. Somehow he knew that they belonged to a different cycle. The first showed two people, a man and a boy, sleeping. He did not know the man, but the child he had seen before. Little Alexander had sometimes visited him during his time in the strange facility, had enjoyed the paints and crayons he had given him to play with. He was part of the better memories of the strange days he'd stayed there. He studied the painting of the two sleepers once more. The child was sleeping, his head resting on the chest of the unknown man and one of his hands clutching a teddy bear. The man was more or less embracing the child in a protective hold, giving the entire setting of the painting a cosy look. The second painting showed the unknown man and Alexander again, but this time there was a third person, an Indian man he'd never seen before, but who still seemed to look familiar to him. The third and fourth picture both were no help to him either, but the fifth... the fifth was worse than bad. There were corpses everywhere, mountains of corpses. In the centre of the picture there was Alexander again, sitting in a grotesque circle formed out of the dead bodies of the two men that had been in the other paintings. He was bleeding rivers out of his cut arms and in the background there were two other people: a man and a female... he couldn't call that being woman, she was too strange. The female had black hair and eyes and strange blackish veins upon her face and she was emitting greenish light out of her hands. The light hit the man and it was obviously painful, for his face was scrunched into a silent scream. The man was taller than the woman, with brown, slightly curly hair, but Isaac could not make out any more details. The green light was covering too much of his body. Isaac took one step backwards and let himself sink down to the floor and rest. It was hard, very hard for him to paint in such long sessions, but still he felt like there would... should be more paintings, like this cycle was still incomplete. He sighed. Before he could try again he would need some rest, some new canvases and paints, and food was becoming necessary too he concluded as his stomach started to grumble unhappily. Food first, he decided, then some rest, and then the supplies for his new paintings. He was not going to allow this to happen. The cheerleader was saved, and now it would be his mission to save the two men, to save Alexander.

-o-o-o-o-o-

October 22. 2006 - New York, NY

Sylar was normally not someone to oversleep or to sleep in, never. Even before he had become aware of his uniqueness, when he had been simply Gabriel, his inner clock always woke him punctually at six in the morning. So it was something like a shock when he woke, looked at the alarm clock and learned that it was already nine, that he had overslept by three hours. He tried to sit up, but something, someone was clinging to his side like a limpet. Sylar looked and couldn't suppress a smile: Alexander clung to him, almost hugging him. Carefully he slid out of his bed without waking his boy. Obviously Alexander had snuck in last night, like the night before and the other two nights before that one as well. It seemed like he was getting used to it.

He stepped into the tiny bathroom and started the shower. The last four days had been… interesting. Sylar had learned rather quickly that a young child would go nuts if locked into a car all day. Also a child's bladder was obviously smaller. A child needed to be entertained and feed in regular intervals and so he had to reschedule his stops and a journey of two, maybe three days had become a journey of four days. From Odessa, Texas he'd driven, with several rest-stops, to Hope, Arkansas. There he'd upped their wardrobe and they had slept in a small bed & breakfast, were the elderly receptionist had gushed over the cuteness of a suddenly very shy Alexander. Then the journey went on, from Hope, Arkansas to Crossville, Tennessee. On the next day he'd wanted to get to Harrisburg, but the car broke down in Roanoke, Virginia. Of course, with his ability to understand how things worked he could fix it, he just needed to "organize" a few spare parts. In Roanoke he'd bought a snow globe for his mother and a teddy bear for Alexander and not for the first time he thought if and how he could tell her that she was the grandmother of a five year old child that was created in a lab. And like all the other times he'd decided to think about it later. At the moment his biggest goal was to get to New York and he managed to achieve his goal the next day. He'd driven them to his shop and the little apartment tucked behind it.

A tiny kitchen, bath, a bed and a pullout sofa, that was all, nothing much, but when he'd been a watchmaker he'd spent many nights here, listening to the soothing noise of countless clocks ticking in perfect harmony. He'd put Alexander to sleep on the sofa-bed, which was softer and more comfortable than his old bed. But obviously Alexander had different ideas.

Sylar turned off the shower and grabbed a towel. Today was a big day for him and his boy. He wondered how the son of Chandra Suresh would react if he suddenly popped up in his apartment. Well, he had a little peacemaking gift in form of the stolen files of the company, but he had the feeling that Mohinder was stubborn and unforgiving. He had managed to find his other, his real apartment and had forced him to move out rather quickly before the police could find him.

Oh yes, from the few glimpses he'd gotten of him, he'd concluded that Mohinder was a resourceful man and he would like to meet him in a battle of wits.

He dried off his hair and glared into the mirror. He hated the fact that the company-scientists had deemed it necessary to shave off most of his hair. And he found it even worse that this haircut looked better than his old one. He sighed and stepped back into his little bedroom to dress himself. Alexander was still sleeping and he decided to let him sleep on for a little while. It was Alexander big day too after all and he wanted him to be at his best when they went to visit his other parent.

-o-o-o-o-o-

Mohinder was sleeping. The last few days he'd driven nightshift and had come home so late that it had been early again. Add to that the work he'd done decoding his father's research and you got a dead tired geneticist. So he was still in bed, still sleeping and did not hear the clicking noise of his door being opened and shut again. He didn't hear the footsteps walking through his apartment or the soft squeal of a child meeting his lizard. But he did noticed it when something started moving around in his bed. He sighed, still almost asleep. Obviously his little escape artist of a lizardy namesake had managed to escape from his tank again and was now searching for the warmest spot in his apartment. Mohinder murmured, half-asleep, trying to shoo the scaly pest away.

There was a giggling sound and then, something, no, someone poked him. And it was not his lizard. Someone was here, someone human, an intruder.

Suddenly Mohinder was wide awake, his eyes snapped open and he sat straight up. There was an indignant squeak as the child that had leaned over him was dislodged and started to tumble backwards, almost falling of his bed. Almost, for the motion suddenly stopped, as if someone had caught him, before he could fall, but there wasn't anyone, was there? A sound made him tear away his gaze from the child and then he saw the other one, an adult male, who was leaning against the wall right next to the door of his bedroom. In one angled arm he carried Mohinder the lizard, his other arm was stretched into a capturing motion and suddenly Mohinder understood. Telekinesis, the art of moving objects and obviously also falling children, with ones mind. The man before him had a power, the first one he'd ever seen with his own eyes. His father had been right all along. But why had he broken into his apartment?

Then the man smiled and it was not a very nice smile.

"Good morning, Dr Suresh. I've heard that you were looking for me."

Looking for him? Mohinder blinked, but his mind was not yet fully awake and so the man continued after a short pause.

"You and I, we have a lot to talk about. So much interesting things to talk about."

Caffeine, he really needed something to kick-start his brain, he still had no idea what the other man wanted from him and why that had been so important for him, that he'd broke into his apartment. And what about the child? It looked familiar, somehow.

"Who are you? And what do you want from me?"

The man smiled, like a Bengal Tiger about to pounce his prey.

"I am Sylar." He gestured and suddenly there were invisible fingers around Mohinder's throat. "And as I said, we have a lot to talk about."

-o-o-o-o-o-

Peter dreamed. He dreamed of death, of destruction and it was all his fault. It felt like he was caught in a vicious loop, watching, standing in a near-empty street, feeling his skin growing tighter and hotter, seeing the dangerous light under his skin growing brighter and brighter until he couldn't hold it inside any longer. Once more he watched his brother disintegrate into ashes, sees buildings crumble to the ground, only to start anew, once more standing on an deserted street, trying to find a way, a solution. His hands were already glowing again, when suddenly the vision changed. There was a boy, a small Indian boy, smiling at him as he takes his hands. And the glow vanished as if someone flipped a switch. He felt a soft breeze and noticed that the hot and tight feeling of his skin was gone too. For the first time since these dreams… nightmares started, he felt in control. It was a good feeling.

In front of him the boy was still standing, still smiling. And he was no longer alone. Behind him stood a young man, Caucasian and maybe six feet tall. He had tousled brown hair, brown eyes and a lopsided smile that screamed to trust him. The hands of the man rest comfortably on the shoulders of the boy, holding them together, connecting them. To the boys right side stood Dr. Suresh, dressed in strangely formal yet flowing white clothes. In his hands he was holding a DNA-strand formed out of flowers, plants and animals. To the boys left there was another man and Peter had to look several times to make sure that, yes, this was the man from Odessa, the one that had nearly killed the Cheerleader, killed him. He was dressed all in black and was holding a sword, made completely out of ice.

When he finally got over the shock of seeing that murderer seemingly protecting his little saviour, he turned back to the boy… and could only stare in shock. The boy was no longer smiling, he was bleeding and there was a large hole in his chest. A hole filled with light. The man behind him had a similar hole and he was bleeding too. Both the eyes of man and boy had become orbs of green light. And then they both opened their mouth and they spoke, in complete synchrony.

"It is not your time yet, Mirror of Legion. We have already sacrificed ourselves for this world before and we will continue to do so again, until it no longer needs saving. You go and find them, they will need you, father of my half-siblings."

"What?!"

There was a great flash of green and suddenly Peter sat in the grass, in the dew-wet grass of New York's Central Park and his head was still whirling from the revelation he just had. He heard laughter and turned to it, to witness two Indian boys, two different Indian boys roll around with a man he couldn't recognize right now, because of the wiggling children which were blocking his line of sight. The children were mercilessly tickling the adult and when he laughed, Peter recognized him and couldn't help but stare in disbelieve. A woman stepped on the scene, smiling and collecting the two dishevelled kids and their not much better looking father. And Peter watched as they leave the park, the mother, the children and himself. An older and much happier looking version of himself, but 100 percent himself.

"Strange, isn't it, what can happen in such a few moments of time."

The voice was jovial and friendly, but unexpected and he flinched as he turned around… to meet a man with two faces, literally two faces.

"They are sweet, aren't they?"

He could only nod.

"Then I would better start searching for them, Peter. Joycelynn will give birth to them in two weeks and if you haven't found them until then… "

The man shrugged, gestures and suddenly they were standing in a graveyard. No! No, no no this was not happening!

"Two weeks, Peter. And now it is time to **Wake Up**!"

And Peter woke up. He was sitting upright in his hospital bed, the heart monitor protesting as his pulse speed up.

Two weeks, that's all he had and he had no idea… wait! He had an idea where to start. He had to, he need to go to Mohinder

-End Chapter Two-


	4. Build Up

Disclaimer: Joss Whedon is the original writer/creator of all that is Buffy, and Mutant Enemy also holds those rights. Heroes is Tim Krings brainchild and since that's not my name I sadly can not claim to own it.

Rating: R

Genre: Crossover

Notes: My first language is not English and I unfortunately have no beta, so I'll ask you to ignore my grammar-mistakes

Warnings: violence, character death, maybe some smut later

Spoiler alert: Spoilers up to "Fallout"

Summary: Two different hidden worlds are about to collide, when an old god, a modern day geneticist, a serial killer, a crazy cult and a shady company all concentrate their attention on one small boy. Reborn to save the world, Alexander, formerly known as Xander Harris, struggles with both a new life, old memories and a demonic sect, that has declared him to be the avatar of their God. Trying to stay ahead from the company, keeping his parents from killing each other and hiding from his devout priests is hard enough, but the world is going to end... soon and he's only five years old.

Authors Note: To fit the Buffy-timeline with the Heroes-timeline, I moved the events of Buffy back a little. Buffy starts one year earlier, so the episodes "Seeing Red" and "Grave" happened in 2001, so that reborn little Xander would be five in 2006.

**The Janus-Child** By Simone of the Zordiak

Chapter Three: Build-Up

October 22. 2006 – Here and Yet not Here

In the Magehouses the best of the elite of the Enlil-Fiachra were studying the polished surfaces of the Worldmirrors and made note of all the images they showed. They were studying the world and behaviour of humans, for soon a selected few of their warriors, spies and mages would walk through a portal and enter the world of man, to find the avatars of their holy triad that the prophets had declared were living among them. The portal would be opened on the last day of the month the humans called October, when the veil between all dimensions were thinner and the humans were celebrating a holiday which included elaborate costumes, which would make it much easier to enter their realm unknown. Right now the best tailors were studying the humans most common clothing, their scholars the human behaviour and the mages were creating anti-pollution-charms, so that they would not be sick and poisoned the first few weeks of their search while their bodies adapted.

It would be a great honour to be chosen for this mission, but even the tiniest bit of help was already counting like the greatest of blessings in the eyes of the Enlil-Fiachra. They were going to bring their gods home, that was all that mattered.

-o-o-o-o-o-

October 22. 2006 – New York, NY

Sylar was here, his fathers murderer, here, in his apartment, sitting in his chair and smiling, while he was holding his throat in an invisible grip. Not too close, that he would be choking him, more like an invisible collar, a leash. But Mohinder knew, one simple gesture could cut off his airflow and kill him. Mohinder's thoughts were whirling madly through his mind. What did the murderer want from him? And he still had no idea why the child was here. What was he to Sylar? A hostage? An accomplice? No, the child was too young and too carefree to be involved in such gruesome murders. And he still had no idea why the boy looked so familiar. Then Mohinder's thoughts wandered to the gun he had in his upper desk drawer, but even if Sylar hadn't leashed him with his telekinesis, he wouldn't risk making a run for it. Firstly, he was pretty sure that Sylar could stop the bullets before they hit him and secondly, there was a young child in his apartment and he wanted to spare him the violence of such an action. Maybe this was the reason why Sylar had brought him here?

"Sit, Doctor." Mohinder felt a tug at his throat and hurried to sit in the chair Sylar had pointed to. Better to comply now and live than being chocked to death for being stubborn. He absolutely detested the feeling of being leashed, but he wanted to stay alive more than making a point for his personal freedom. And as long as Sylar didn't kill him, he could always plan to escape his clutches.

As soon as he had sat down, he felt the invisible pressure against his throat vanish, while his chest and legs were pressed against the chair, effectively trapping him.

"I bet you are asking yourself why I'm here, Doctor." Sylar spoke as he fished for something behind the couch.

"Whatever you want here, you won't get it." Mohinder bit his tongue to stop himself from calling the other a murderer and several other, rather unpleasant words, there was a child here, after all.

"Oh, you are so wrong, Doctor." He smirked, as he pulled a stuffed duffle bag from behind the couch and opened the zipper. The duffle was full of files and Sylar smiled as he grabbed the topmost folder.

"You see, a few weeks ago I was in Texas, on my way to expand my repertoire. There was this girl, a cheerleader, that could regenerate, but that is not important now. What is important, is that I was disturbed. First by some would be hero, but he is also not important right now." Mohinder thought about the strange cryptic words Peter had spoken during the ride back from trying to visit Isaac. So Peter had been right and was probably dead now.

"As I said, he was not important. But then I was disturbed by some other people. People that work for a rather interesting company. A company that studies special people, that experiments on people like me, or should I say," and here he smiled a smile with way too many teeth, "us?"

"What?" That was completely unexpected. As far as Mohinder knew, he was not one of the evolved humans his father had searched for. He was not on his father's list and had never displayed any special ability.

Sylar opened the folder, started to read out loud.

"Suresh, Mohinder, born January the 23rd, 1973. Father: Suresh, Chandra. Mother: Suresh, Manisha, born Mohan, Manisha. One sister: Suresh, Shanti, decreased, suspected special. Suresh's genetic profile shows no signs of being an evolved human, but as the brother of Shanti Suresh it is very much a probability that his offspring are born evolved humans. Mohinder Suresh is the only known carrier of Shanti-Antibodies… do you want me to continue?"

"How? Where did you get that?"

"Stole it from the company when I escaped. They have been watching you and your family ever since your sister died. And when they found some information on what your father did to you, you became one of their main foci."

"My father? Don't you dare talk about my father!"

"Oh don't try to defend him, Mohinder. How do you think you got the Shanti-Antibodies? The virus that kills evolved humans, the virus that has killed your sister. You were born with them, do the math."

If he was really born with Shanti-Antibodies (and he hated the fact that the virus carried his sister's name) then there was only one way, but he couldn't, wouldn't, did not want to believe it.

"Your father injected you with the virus, in utero. Of course the company tried to copy your father's feat. Want to know how many of the children died? All of them. Not a single child survived the injection and most of the expecting mothers died as well."

Mohinder swallowed as he listened as the murderer listed fact after fact that painted his father in a very bad light.

"Of course, after the scientists realised that they could not copy your father's accomplishment, they decided to try something else. Here, read!"

Sylar handed him the folder he'd read from and then a second, a much thicker one. And almost automatically Mohinder took them. Now he knew why Sylar had left his hands free. He opened the first folder and was disturbed by the amount of information this nebulous company had collected about him. Mohinder stopped for a moment when he found his own genetic profile. Then his curiosity made him open the second folder. The first thing he saw was a photograph of the young boy Sylar had brought into his home. Alexander Nishant Vidar, that was his name. Mohinder noticed the lack of a last name, yet he stayed silent and read on. Alexander was classified as a J-class, whatever that meant, but it seemed to be important. He turned the page and then he chocked. Once more he read the information. Read about the female ovum that had been emptied of its own genetic contents only have it replaced with DNA they had taken from donated male sperm. Then the ovum had been fertilised with sperm taken from him? But that was impossible, he'd never donated sperm! He read on, read about the tests done on the newborn child and then he found the information that completely made him stop thinking. The name of the other parent and the alias he now used. He looked up.

Once more Sylar smiled down at him, but this time it was a less predatory smile.

"Congratulations, Doctor. It's a boy. Our boy."

-o-o-o-o-o-

October 22. 2006 – Odessa, Texas

Noah Bennet was sitting in his home-office, stunned. Three days, he'd three days, then the company expected him to deliver Claire into their waiting clutches. Just some long overdue test, the man on the other end of the phone had told him, just some tests to find out if she had already activated a special ability and if the answer was to be yes, they wanted to study her more in-depth. Noah knew what that meant. He had seen what Robert Bishop had done to his daughter, his own daughter, all for the so-called good of the company. That hadn't been tests, that had been torture, pure and simple. And if a sadistic man like Robert was to find out what his Claire-bear could do, there would be no one to stop him from devising even more sadistic tests to find the limits of Claire's ability. He could imagine only all too well what the company was going to do to her. And he would not allow it. The only question now was how could he stop them. He looked around, trying to find a plan, a tactic and his eyes stopped at the family-computer. More or less automatically he walked to the machine and opened up an internet connection. He knew which E-Mail accounts she was watching and had so far avoided using them. But now he started to tip a short letter and pushed the send-button. Wireless would get the message. And Hana Gintelman still had an account to settle with him.

-o-o-o-o-o-

October 22. 2006– New York, NY

He sat on Peter's bed, watching his brother more or less running through the apartment like a headless chicken. Nathan had been the first one there, when Peter had woken up, woken up with a new disaster he'd to stop somehow. The last time Peter had talked about saving a cheerleader and he had tried to stop him. This time Nathan knew he could not stop his brother, Peter would find a way around him, just like the last time, and so he had insisted to go with him when he was going to visit the geneticist. This time he would not let Peter run away from him. No, if his little brother had to go on another strange quest, he would follow to make sure that he survived. These last weeks he had come too close to losing him and he would make sure that this did not happened again.

-o-o-o-o-o-

When she'd entered Isaac's loft, she'd been shocked. There were paintings everywhere. Oil, acryl, tempera, even some done with watercolours. She found Isaac on top of his bed, he'd not even showered off the paint, had simply fallen on his bed and asleep. Simone was very worried about him. When she had heard that he was back and clean, she'd been happy, but it looked like his visions were continuing what the drugs had started. They were slowly eating him from the inside out. She was pretty sure that he'd painted all these paintings in the last three days and there had to be at least fifty of them! Fifty paintings. She could see the progress. First he'd used acrylic paint, because it dried quicker, but then he was out of them and had switched to oil-paints, which took days to dry so some of the paintings were still wet. Then he'd ran out of canvases and continued with boards and tempera. Finally he'd switched to paper and had used whatever paints he could scourge, watercolour, crayons and she had even found two paintings done in ink. Isaac was burning himself out, she could see it. But she had no idea how to stop him.

-o-o-o-o-o-

Sylar watched the geneticist carefully, his mind softly ticking as he tried to figure out how Mohinder's mind worked. Silently he cursed Chandra, who had talked a lot about his dead daughter, but mentioned his living son only a few times. He had read the file about Mohinder several times to get a feel for the man, but all the facts of the world couldn't replace a study of the living subject. The folder had listened his entire career, his marks and achievements, but to see the man dive into the information he had brought to his door, how he seemed to forget his surroundings as he worked out the connection between the different pieces of information, that was something he could admire, that he could relate to. How often had he lost track of time while repairing a watch? How often had he lost himself in the intricate pattern of wheels and cogs? Sure, he was quite certain that Mohinder still carried a grudge against him for killing his father, but as long as he had Alexander with him, Mohinder would not act on these feelings. He had seen it, the glances Mohinder had thrown at the child, the shock, disbelieve, denial and then the beginnings of hope and affection, when he had found out the truth about the boy. The first step had been done, now he had to be careful, or his entire plan could fail. But he was pretty sure that he would win Mohinder over when the Indian found the statistics in the back of the folder. They had been so bad that he had changed his plans when he had found them, that he had decided that the acquiring of new abilities could wait. And now he was here, ready to convince Mohinder Suresh to join him in his quest of the utterly and complete destruction of the company.

End Chapter Three


	5. Dominoes

Disclaimer: Joss Whedon is the original writer/creator of all that is Buffy, and Mutant Enemy also holds those rights. Heroes is Tim Krings brainchild and since that's not my name I sadly can not claim to own it.

Rating: R

Genre: Crossover

Notes: My first language is not English and I unfortunately have no beta, so I'll ask you to ignore my grammar-mistakes

Warnings: violence, character death, maybe some smut later

Spoiler alert: Spoilers up to "Fallout"

Summary: Two different hidden worlds are about to collide, when an old god, a modern day geneticist, a serial killer, a crazy cult and a shady company all concentrate their attention on one small boy. Reborn to save the world, Alexander, formerly known as Xander Harris, struggles with both a new life, old memories and a demonic sect, that has declared him to be the avatar of their God. Trying to stay ahead from the company, keeping his parents from killing each other and hiding from his devout priests is hard enough, but the world is going to end... soon and he's only five years old.

Authors Note: To fit the Buffy-timeline with the Heroes-timeline, I moved the events of Buffy back a little. Buffy starts one year earlier, so the episodes "Seeing Red" and "Grave" happened in 2001, so that reborn little Xander would be five in 2006.

The Janus-Child

By Simone of the Zordiak

Chapter Four: Dominoes

Sometime - Janus Realm

Dominoes, he liked Dominoes. Such a simple principle, such a magnificent result. Line up the stones, push the first one and watch the line fall. He was a master at this game, knowing when and where to place which stones for the best results. Compares to him, the Powers that Be were mindless idiots, swinging at the delicate web of timelines and fate with large hammers, not caring about the cumulative damage the caused to the future.

Janus frowned as he stepped away from his viewing mirrors. The Powers, it always came back to these short-sighted fools. If he'd been able to interfere any sooner, he would have done so, but Alexander had been the only champion he'd left and even when he had become his eyes and hands on the physical plane, the balance of the hellmouth had been too delicate for him to be called someplace else. But then a visit to the Fates had shown him that Xander would not live to see he's 22nd birthday and he had been able to place his first domino stone on the cosmic board of chance. The files of Chandra Suresh in the hands of the company, a tiny pebble in the stream of time, a little something that hadn't meant to have happen. Now they, who already had more than 200 different stains of the Shanti-virus, knew how rare the antidote really was. The virus was meant to be a weapon and a weapon without the means to protect themselves against was useless. And so the company had reacted just like he'd predicted them to react and had started to create more antivirus-carrier with the seed stolen from the first one.

When the Powers had done the deed, when they made sure that Xander died an unnatural death to plug the hole made by the Slayers unnatural resurrection, he had been ready and Xander's new body as well. Funny how the offspring of two lynchpins in the stream of fate and time would only accept the soul of a wildcard. Had Xander survived on Kingman's Bluff, the unborn child would have died in the womb of its mother, for there had been no other suitable soul for it.

But Xander had died and by being reborn, had become the next stone in his game of Dominoes. He had "pushed" him when Sylar had been placed in the same facility he was held in, had allowed to leak some of the old Xanders tactical knowledge into the subconscious of the child and little Xander had done as he'd planned for him to do, breaking his parent out of the facility taking himself and quite a lot of evidence for the companies nefarious schemes across the country to his other parent, to the second lynchpin, Dr Suresh. All the while the nature of Xander, his ability for love, was influencing Sylar in subtle and not so subtle ways. And because he met Mohinder as himself, not hiding behind the mask of one of his victims, the feeling of hurt and betrayal Mohinder would have felt in another timeline was greatly reduced in this timestream. Add to this the fact that Sylar right now had no desire to add to his powers but to bring down the company, a goal Mohinder was quite ready to help with after reading the stolen files, and you had a complete different situation with just the help of two Dominoes. Isaac was another Domino, he had been activated when Xander had met him in the Company facility. His powers were changing, turning into something more and soon, very soon, his line of Dominoes would start a truly amazing pattern of change all over Fate's tapestry and there was nothing, absolutely nothing the Powers could do against it now.

The world would be saved, the ripped barriers replaced and with a bit of time and a few more gentle pushes, the future of man would return to its real way and purpose.

And Janus smiled.

October 22. 2006 – London, England

The Watcher's Council was old, very old. In fact it was the oldest organisation humans had founded, that had survived 'til these days. That didn't stop them from being pompous asses and making really stupid mistakes from time to time. Like now.

Quentin Travers was sitting in his opulently decorated office, reading the latest report done on the subject of Buffy Summers. No doubt she was the oldest, longest-living and most successful slayer of all times, but unfortunately the Watcher couldn't brag with that fact, since she was not one of their slayers. And it did not look very well for the council-breed and taught slayers. Four years ago the imprisoned slayer Faith had saved a warden during a riot and had been gravely injured. She had flat lined on the op-table, but the doctors had been able to revive her. But she had been dead long enough that the next slayer had been activated. She had not made it past three months. The life expectancy of their slayers had gone down rapidly and with the two examples of Miss Summers and Faith, the other members of the Watches had started to questioning their methods. That was bad. Soon enough they would start to demand that they start to treat slayers as teenaged girls and not the disposable weapons they were meant to be.

He was trying to formulate a plan that would bring the rebellious fraction of the council back under his control when the door to his office was opened with such a force that the door handle banged against the wall. His secretary more or less stormed into his office, babbling something about all the council-known seers and prophets speaking a prophecy. All the same one and all at the same time.

Even for Quentin, that was something important and worrisome and so he listened.

_Rejoice, People of the World_

_The Mother that isn't has found the Son that is_

_And together they found the Father of Legion_

_Behold the Three:_

_Father that creates_

_Mother that destroys_

_Son that preserves_

_They are the new Trimurti_

_They are the harbingers of a new Era_

_They will tear down the old Institutions_

_And remake the World in their Image_

_They will have the help_

_Of the Laughing Prophet_

_The Stone that is a Mirror_

_And the Giver that flies_

_The Skygod holds the Key_

_To unlock and change the secrets of Man_

_The Strength of God wields the_

_Invisible Sword of Might to protect their Family_

_The One that Defends holds them together_

_Preserving all that is dear to him_

_Children of the Father_

_Awaken by the call of the Son_

_Brothers and Sisters_

_To heal the Wounds of the World_

_Stepping through a thousand Doors_

_Ripping apart the Veil_

_Truth shall be learned_

_Judgements shall be spoken…_

The aide stopped and said that all the seers had stopped here as well, saying that they could feel that there was more to be spoken at a later moment in time.

But Quentin had heard enough. Tearing down the old institutions, remaking the world in their image, that sounded not too good for them. They had to stop this from happening, before they were swept away. Travers grabbed his phone and started to dial. They had to find the Trimurti and dispose of them. It was the right thing to do, for they were the Watchers and what they were doing, was the most important thing of the world.

-o-o-o-o-o-

October 22. 2006 – New York, NY – Mohinder's apartment

Someone was knocking at his door. Mohinder blinked as his concentration was broken by the loud knocks. Sylar was looking at him, the unsaid questions evident in his eyes, but Mohinder had no answers for him, he had no idea who was at his door. After a short, but seemingly endless moment the killer's fingers twitched minutely, the lock at his front door clicked and the door opened.

"Dr. Suresh?"

Mohinder closed his eyes. He knew that voice. But he had thought that the younger Petrelli hadn't survived the encounter with Sylar. At least it had sounded that way when Sylar had spoken about his first and so far last encounter with the nurse.

Peter stepped into the room and for an endless second time seemed to stop as he met Sylar's eyes.

"YOU!"

The young nurse shouted angrily at the man that was responsible for his fall from the bleachers, the one that had killed one and nearly killed another cheerleader. But before he could make a move to attack the man, his brother stepped behind him and grabbed his shoulder.

-o-o-o-o-o-

Nathan Petrelli did not know much about Dr Suresh. After he had the Indian thrown out for being a head case, he had not really wanted to learn much about him. If he had taken the man seriously, then everything would be real and he did not wanted it to be real. Now he knew better.

But one of the few facts he did knew about the Doctor, was that he was single and had no offspring. So the young boy that looked quite a lot like the good Doctor, and who was hugging the stuffing out of a poor defenceless lizard, was quite a surprise.

Peter on the other hand, was starring at the other man in Dr Suresh's apartment.

"You!"

"Me."

The man stood there like he belonged here, smiling broadly.

Nathan could see Peter tense, like he wanted too attack and grabbed his brothers shoulder. He was worried, Peter had just been released from the hospital and now he wanted to fight?

Strange, it seemed like Peter read his mind, for he forced himself to relax and calm down.

-o-o-o-o-o-

Mohinder had enough, He was slowly working up quite a steam, what about his father's murderer walking into his apartment like he owned it, finding out about his son. His son, great Shiva he had a son! Then came learning what the shady company had seemingly been up to. And now the Petrelli brothers! He had enough! He was absolutely and completely fed up with everything! He wanted his quiet and lonely apartment back, thank you very much. He wanted his space, without the noisy invading people (well his son could stay, the others though… ), he wanted some sleep, or caffeine at last. And most importantly he wanted out of this uncomfortable chair, he needed to pee.

End Chapter Four


End file.
